


Faggot

by littlebirdtold



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Barebacking, Dubious Consent, Homophobic Language, Infidelity, M/M, Oral Fixation, Rimming, Swearing, Teacher-Student Relationship, jerk!Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebirdtold/pseuds/littlebirdtold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started as a response to this prompt and has taken on a life of its own: <i>Teacher/Schoolboy Kink AU: Chris has been a bad boy, acting like a jerk. Mr. Quinto teaches him a lesson during detention… </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Faggot

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings carefully. You have been warned. Written for Pornapalooza II. Beta'ed by the lovely lalazee.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No disrespect meant.

 

 

 

* * *

  
"Hey, faggot! Yelchin!" Chris calls out. "Shit, guys, look at his lips. I bet he just sucked someone off in the bathroom."   
  
Karl and Eric cackle, and Yelchin glares and all but runs from them. Chris smirks, ignoring the disapproving look Audrina is shooting at him from where she stands chatting with her friends. Whatever; she is never pleased with him for one reason or another.  
  
"Oohh, Audrina is pissed at you again, man," Eric says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Looks like you aren't getting any today."  
  
"To me, it looks like Mr. Pine will be getting a detention today," a cold voice says from behind, and Chris freezes before turning around.  
  
His history teacher, Mr. Quinto, is fixing him with a hard look, his dark eyes full of disgust. Chris licks his lips.   
  
"My office, Pine. Four o'clock."   
  
Quinto strides away, and Karl whistles. "Man, sucks to be you."   
  
Chris shrugs slightly, watching the teacher leave. Quinto's temper is legendary in their school and his detentions are brutal. Chris's never had a detention with him, but if he's honest with himself, Mr. Quinto unnerves the shit out of him. History is probably the only class Chris tries to keep his head down in; he doesn't want Quinto's attention focused on him--it never fails to make him feel all weird and uncomfortable as fuck. The guy is just too intense and odd, and Chris always does his best to avoid him outside of the classroom.  
  
It looks like his luck has finally run out. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
Chris knocks and goes in without waiting for an answer.  
  
Mr. Quinto is seated behind the huge desk. He doesn't even bother to lift his head from his paperwork when Chris enters the room.   
  
Chris clears his throat. "Mr. Quinto?"   
  
His teacher doesn't look up, just adjusts his glasses slightly. "Pine. What time is it?"  
  
"Four, like you said."  
  
"No," Quinto says very, very softly. "It's  _seven_ minutes past four. Tell me, Pine, do you think you are better than everyone else?"  
  
Chris shifts from one foot to the other. "No, sir."  
  
Mr. Quinto still doesn't look up. "Really? Your behavior suggests otherwise. Only this week, I caught you eight times using certain derogatory terms towards your classmates."  
  
Chris chuckles. "It isn't a crime or anything. It's just words."  
  
"Just words," Quinto repeats flatly. "Have you heard about Bill Gerrard, Pine?"  
  
"Um, sure," Chris says with a grimace. Bill is—was—the kid from the neighboring school who cut his wrists two months ago.   
  
"Then you know that he committed suicide because his classmates bullied him for being gay. He took his life because of the jocks like you who called him a faggot, cock-sucker, poofter, fruit-cake, and many other  _just words_."  
  
Chris flinches at Quinto's tone. "Um."  
  
"Do you feel remorse now, Pine?"  
  
When Chris says nothing, Quinto finally raises his head. His gaze is dark and heavy and all-consuming. It should frighten Chris, but it doesn't. It's…exhilarating.   
  
The teacher's lips twist. "I see that you don't. You feel like you're better than 'that faggot' Bill, don't you?"  
  
Chris fidgets, getting more and more unnerved under Quinto's intense stare. He feels very warm and weird. He lifts his chin up. "So what if I do? He was a weak coward if he let some name-calling get to him like that. If he really were proud of himself and his orientation, he would have just told them to fuck off and laughed it off. To me, it looks like he was more homophobic than those guys who teased him."  
  
Quinto's eyes narrow and he leans back in his chair. There is a very odd expression on his face. "It's easy for you to talk about shit you know nothing. You are the most popular jock in the school, you have plenty of friends, and you're going out with the most popular cheerleader. You're a walking cliché, Pine. You know nothing about being bullied."  
  
Chris's jaw tightens, his fists itching to punch Quinto's arrogant face. Never mind that he's the top of his class in English, he is still that 'dumb jock.' Usually, Chris doesn't mind it much—girls love dumb jocks—but sometimes, at times like this, he burns to have his intelligence recognized.  
  
When Chris can't come up with an answer that doesn't involve telling his teacher to fuck off, Quinto returns his attention to his paperwork.   
  
Chris stares at his dark-haired head and waits.   
  
Seconds tick by. Mr. Quinto looks like he's completely forgotten about his presence.  
  
Finally, Chris can't stand the wait anymore. "Sir, what should I do for detention?" he says through his teeth.  
  
"First, lock the door," Quinto says, not looking up.   
  
Chris licks his lips, his heart speeding up. "Why?"  
  
"I said lock the door, Pine."  
  
Frowning, Chris does as he’s told. "Now what?"  
  
"Now get under my desk and suck me off."  
  
Chris's mouth goes slack. "W-what?"  
  
"You heard me, Pine. Now."  
  
Chris blinks, then blinks again. Laughs. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
Mr. Quinto looks up and meets his eyes. "No, I'm not, Chris."  
  
Eyes widening, Chris steps back. "You— you're fucking crazy! I'll tell everything to the principal and— and you'll be fired!"  
  
Quinto gives him a smile that sends a weird shiver down Chris's spine. "We both know that you won't. Come here, Pine." He leans back in his chair and spreads his knees. Chris stares at the big bulge straining the teacher's grey trousers. Licks his lips.  
  
"No," he says, shaking his head, his eyes glued to Quinto's dick. Shit, he can't look away. Why can't he look away?   
  
"Come here. You know you want to."  
  
Chris chuckles harshly. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I've been watching you for months. You're gagging for cock. I know the signs."   
  
Chris barks out a laugh. "You're fucking nuts. I'm not a faggot—"  
  
Quinto's voice is soft as he cuts him off, "I'm losing my patience, Pine. Come over here and get on your knees now. You will do as you're told."  
  
Chris looks at the dark eyes, then down at the cock straining Quinto's fly—and, as if in some goddamn of trance, goes.  
  
He kneels between the teacher's knees, his mind reeling. What the  _fuck_ is he doing? He can—and should—leave. Quinto can't stop him.  
  
"Unzip my fly and pull my cock out," his teacher instructs quietly.  
  
Chris fingers shake as he unzips the pants and pulls out Quinto's dick—his goddamn teacher's dick. It's fat and long and warm in his hand and already leaking pre-cum. Chris stares at it.  
  
"You're such a pretty boy," Quinto says softly, getting a hold of Chris's hair and jerking his head forward roughly. "Now, open your mouth wide. Cover your teeth."  
  
Chris opens his mouth and watches Mr. Quinto's dripping, red cock come closer to his face. He feels hot all over, almost feverish. Shit, he is  _hard_.  
  
"Uhh, yess," his teacher hisses out as he guides his penis into Chris's mouth.   
  
Chris's eyes burn with tears as Quinto starts fucking into him roughly, the cockhead bumping against his throat, nearly making him gag. He tries to protest, but his mouth is full of dick and nostrils full of the intoxicating scent of aroused male. He can't breathe, can't think, his own cock ready to burst as his teacher uses him like a ten-dollar whore.  
  
Mr. Quinto is grunting and cussing under his breath, calling Chris names — calling him a cocksucker, whore, faggot. It pisses him off, but fuck, some part of him  _likes_ it — likes being used like this, being fucked into the mouth; likes the feel of the dick sliding in and out, in and out. Chris has no idea how long it lasts—he loses the track of time, his whole world narrowing to the cock in his mouth.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, take it," the teacher grunts out, yanking Chris's head on his dick harder and faster. "Ahh…" The dick in his mouth starts pulsing and spurting come down his throat. Chris coughs and tries to pull away, but Mr. Quinto holds him down, forcing him to swallow everything. Chris does and Quinto pets his hair. "Good boy."  
  
When the teacher finally allows him to move, Chris stumbles to his feet, his knees shaking, throat hurting as hell, and cock so hard that he feels like he'll cry if he doesn't come right the fuck now. He's never been so pissed and turned on in his entire life.   
  
Mr. Quinto tucks himself in and returns to his paperwork. "You are dismissed, Mr. Pine."   
  
Chris glowers at his dark head. "I'll tell about this to the principal," he croaks out. Shit, his throat is all scratchy and achy from Quinto's dick. "You'll be fired!"  
  
The bastard just raises an eyebrow. "Really? Be my guest, Chris."  
  
With a final glare, Chris storms out of the room, fuming.  
  
He doesn't go to the principal. He stumbles into the nearest empty classroom, unzips his jeans, pulls at his swollen cock once, twice, and then he's coming, biting his lips to muffle his whimpers.

 

 

 

* * *

  
Chris goes home with the full intention of telling his parents about the bastard, so that they could get him fired. In the end, though, he ends up locking himself in his bedroom and jerking off furiously, because that sick arousal is still buzzing in his body, making him ache all over. When he comes, it only makes him more pissed than he was before.  
  
The next day, during his Math class, Chris is still fuming and in all seriousness thinks about telling everything to the principal. He closes his eyes and imagines Mr. Quinto's face as Principal Curtis tells him he is fired. The thought is immensely satisfying and Chris smiles. Shit, he wants to see it so bad.  
  
During his Chemistry class, he imagines talking his friends into beating up that fucker. The thought is equally satisfying and Chris spends the rest of the period smiling to himself. Mrs. Parker tells him to pay attention, but she's smiling when she says it. Chris is her favorite student. Women like him. Chris likes them back. Likes their tits, smooth legs and sweet pussies.  
  
During the lunch break, Chris sits with Karl and Eric. Audrina is still pissed at him; whatever. He eats a sausage and for some reason it makes him think of Mr. Quinto's cock; he busts a boner in two seconds and has to leave his lunch unfinished to go to the closest bathroom. He locks himself up in a stall and jerks off with three fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking them.   
  
After leaving the bathroom, Chris catches Audrina in the corridor and kisses her hard, eliciting whistles and catcalls from all around. When he opens his eyes, he sees Mr. Quinto watching him with an odd expression on his face.   
  
Audrina laughs, pushing him away. "Chris, we're in public, for god's sake. Do something to that thing in your pants."  
  
Chris blinks, looks at her, then looks back to Mr. Quinto—but he's already gone.  
  
The next period is History.   
  
Chris thinks about ditching it—hell, he's a senior, he can miss a class once in a while—but doesn't want Quinto to think he's a chicken.  _Screw him_ , he thinks as he swaggers into the classroom, joking and laughing loudly with Eric and Karl. They sit in their usual seats at the back. Chris doesn't look to the front of the classroom. Instead, he argues with Karl about the size of Zoe's boobs. Karl thinks she has B-sized breasts, which makes Chris laugh at him—she totally has an A-cup; it's obvious.  
  
"Mr. Pine, if you're quite done discussing the size of Miss Saldana's bra, would you mind telling us what year the Battle of Waterloo was?" a familiar cool voice says, causing a few snickers from the class.  
  
Chris stiffens and slowly turns his head to the front, his jaw clenching. Quinto's question is completely off-topic. Even if Chris isn’t paying attention, it doesn't mean that he doesn't know what they're supposed to be discussing—and it isn't the fucking Battle of Waterloo.   
  
"1815," he says and sees a flicker of surprise in Quinto's eyes. "Satisfied?" he adds, licking his lips.  
  
"Mind your tone, Pine," Quinto says shortly, pushing a hand into the front pocket of his trousers. Chris's gaze flickers down and his eyes widen when he realizes that Mr. Quinto is adjusting his dick slightly.  
  
Chris stares at the teacher's cock, which is definitely half-hard under those black pants. He wets his lips. "Yes, sir."  
  
He doesn't look away from the dick—can't. He  _stares_ and the bulge becomes downright obscene under Chris's gaze. Chris's mouth fills with saliva at the memory of that cock. Suddenly, he has a crazy thought of walking over to the teacher, dropping to his knees in front of him, and sucking him off right there in the middle of the classroom. The thought almost makes him come on the spot and Chris has to dig his nails hard into his thigh to make his boner deflate slightly.  
  
"Fuck," he mutters. What is he thinking? Does he really want to suck that bastard's dick again? He's not a faggot.  
  
"Language, Pine," Quinto snaps, taking the seat behind his desk. "Stay after the class."  
  
Chris's balls tighten at the words and he doesn't know if he's more excited, scared or pissed.  
  
The time seems to crawl, and by the time the period ends, there's a huge knot in Chris gut and his cock is so hard that it's downright uncomfortable.  
  
"Tough luck, man," Karl says sympathetically before leaving the classroom with the rest of the students.  
  
When they're the only ones left, Quinto looks at him. Chris looks back, his pulse thudding in his ears.  
  
"Come over here, Pine," Quinto says, gesturing to the floor under his desk.  
  
Chris wants to tell him to fuck off. He really does. Really.  
  
But he's dying to get his mouth on Quinto's cock again, so he just glares at the man but walks over, despite his better judgment and the voice screaming in his head, _What are you doing?_  
  
 _God, this is crazy_ , Chris thinks, sinking to the floor under the desk and unzipping Quinto's pants with impatient hands. The door isn't even locked; anyone might come in and see him with a teacher's cock in his mouth.   
  
He does it anyway—takes the penis in his mouth and starts sucking enthusiastically, moaning and humming around it. God, it turns him on so much: the feel of Mr. Quinto's cock's stretching his lips wide, the salty, arousing taste and scent.  
  
"Oh shit yes," Quinto says, stroking Chris's hair and neck with those strong slender hands. "Suck it, Pine. Fuck, your lips were made for sucking cock—for my cock—"  
  
Chris swirls his tongue around the shaft and presses the heel of his hand to his own dick. His jaw is aching already, but he can't stop, can't get enough, so turned on that he can't even think. That's why it takes him a few moments to realize that someone entered the classroom. He freezes around the cock when a very familiar voice says, "Mr. Quinto?"  
  
Shit. Audrina.  
  
"Yes, Miss Patridge?" Quinto says, pressing his hand on Chris's head, urging him to keep blowing him—as if Chris's fucking  _girlfriend_ isn't in the room. The bastard doesn't even sound out of breath.  
  
"I was wondering about the assignment…" Audrina is saying something, but Chris can't concentrate—now that it is clear that Audrina can't see him, he's dying to resume sucking. Mr. Quinto's dick is twitching in his mouth and its taste is so delicious… Chris starts bobbing his head again, but this time tries not to make any slurping sounds or moans. It's hard, because his goddamn girlfriend is a few feet away and doesn't even have a clue that her boyfriend is sucking their teacher's cock; the thought turns him on even more. God, he is  _sick_ , but he feels all naughty and slutty, and he fucking loves it.  
  
"…thank you, Mr. Quinto," Audrina is saying as Chris licks Quinto's balls.  
  
"Any time, A-audrina."   
  
"Your girlfriend just made a move on me," Quinto says with a hoarse chuckle as the door closes, his hand forcing Chris to return back to his erection. "Suck."  
  
Chris does, humming around the thick cock happily.  
  
"Shit, Pine… You look so pretty with your lips around my cock." Quinto starts thrusting up into his mouth. "If only your friends saw you right now—sucking on my cock like a  _cocksucker_. Shit, you're natural— Is this your first cock?"  
  
Glaring up at him, Chris hums around the cock in agreement. Mr. Quinto's face is flushed, eyes glazed over as he stares down at his dick sliding in and out of Chris. "Thought so. God, things I wanna do to you."  
  
Quinto pulls out his cock and Chris whimpers in disappointment, reaching for the cock with his mouth. Quinto chuckles hoarsely and rubs his leaking cockhead against Chris's cheek, against his swollen lips. Chris whines and tries to take the cock into his mouth, but Quinto doesn't allow him. He slaps Chris's cheek with the penis slightly. "If you ask nicely, I'll give it to you."  
  
"Fuck you, man," Chris croaks out with a glare, as if his lips aren't mouthing greedily the side of the cock. God, his mouth feels so fucking empty and he wants it to be filled.  
  
Quinto chuckles softly, petting his hair. His eyes are very dark. "You're gagging for it, Christopher. I've noticed ages ago that you have a bad case of oral fixation - always licking those sinful lips of yours, sucking on a chopstick and chewing on gum. You're born to suck cock. Now,  _ask_."  
  
"Cock," Chris grumbles, licking the side of Mr. Quinto's penis. "Want."  
  
Quinto laughs softly. "Well, if you're asking so nicely—and eloquently—how can I say 'no'? Here." He guides his cock back into Chris's mouth and Chris moans around it. "Suck, boy."  
  
Chris does, taking as much as he can of his teacher's dick. God, he's so close to coming—  
  
"Don't touch your cock," Quinto grunts out, and Chris groans in frustration, but obeys. Mr. Quinto thrusts into him hard, nearly making him gag, then again and again until he groans raggedly and starts filling Chris's mouth with his come. "Uhh, shit."  
  
Chris swallows everything and keeps sucking on Quinto's spent dick. He doesn't want to let go.   
  
"Too sensitive," Quinto mutters and pulls out, to Chris's disappointment.  
  
His face flushed, Mr. Quinto chuckles down at him. "Quit pouting, Pine. Get in my lap and I'll put something into this insatiable mouth of yours."  
  
Chris staggers to his feet, his knees weak and cock swollen to the point that it hurts to move. Quinto pulls him down into his lap and shoves his tongue into Chris's mouth. Chris whimpers and groans as the teacher's tongue starts fucking his mouth rhythmically. He straddles Quinto's lap fully, wraps his hands around his neck and starts humping his clothed cock against the man's belly. Quinto's hands move down to Chris's ass and squeeze the buttocks greedily. A finger slides under the waistband of Chris's jeans and  _strokes_ along his crack. Chris groans into Quinto's mouth and comes so hard that he nearly blacks out.  
  
"Shit, Pine," Mr. Quinto says, sucking on Chris's bottom lip, his hands all over his ass.  
  
As Chris gathers his thoughts slightly, his eyes fly open and he stumbles off his teacher's lap. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What the hell has he been thinking?  
  
"Having a big gay freak-out?" Mr. Quinto says with an amused tilt of his brows, not unkindly.   
  
Chris glowers at him. "I'm not fucking gay," he grits out, his face hot.  
  
Quinto flashes him a smile. "Sure, Chris. You just love sucking cock. Don't worry, it doesn't make you gay at all."  
  
Chris looks at his suspiciously, but it doesn't seem like Quinto is being sarcastic. He looks sincere.  
  
"Yeah?" he says, and then wants to kick himself upon hearing uncertain notes in his own voice.  
  
Mr. Quinto zips up. "Sure. Plenty of gay guys like breasts. But that doesn't make them straight."  
  
Chris thinks about it and finds himself agreeing. He's heard that before.   
  
Somewhat relieved, he tugs his tee-shirt down to cover the wet mess on his crotch and turns around to leave. When he's almost at the door, Mr. Quinto's voice stops him.  
  
"Detention for cussing in my class, Pine. My office, tomorrow at three o'clock. Don't be late."

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
When Chris returns home, he doesn't jerk off. He acts perfectly normal, because he is normal. It won't happen again. He isn't a faggot.   
  
He jokes around with his sister, watches TV with his parents, talks on the phone with Eric about the approaching soccer match, and goes to bed around midnight.   
  
Naked, Chris stretches out on the sheets and takes his hard cock into his hand. He closes his eyes and thinks of Audrina's lush curves, of her hard nipples, and his mouth waters. Chris puts two fingers into his mouth and starts sucking on them, imagining that he's sucking on Audrina's nipples. He pulls at his cock with his right hand and keeps sliding his fingers in and out of his mouth, in, out, in, out, until it feels like it's a cock stretching his lips. Chris moans around the fingers, sucking on them hard and swirling his tongue around them. He lets go of his dick and starts stroking and tugging at his hair, imagining that it's Mr. Quinto yanking him onto his cock.  
  
Shit, oh shit, the thought turns him on so much that Chris groans loudly, for a moment forgetting about the thin walls. He pushes a third finger in deeply, nearly gagging himself, but it's not enough; he wants Mr. Quinto's cock. Grunting in frustration, Chris lets go of his hair, and reaching down, touches his asshole, just like the teacher did before. It feels strange, but in a good way, so Chris scoops the precum from his swollen cock and strokes his hole with his fingers.  
  
Oh,  _oh_.   
  
Chris pushes a finger in, then deeper, moaning as it brushes against something in his asshole. Sliding the finger in and out of his hole, he keeps fucking his mouth with the fingers of his other hand, his mind hazy with lust, cock drooling on his belly, balls feeling like they're about to burst. Chris thrusts a second finger into his asshole,  _hard_ , and comes, groaning around the fingers.   
  
He pants loudly in the darkness and thinks,  _Shit_. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
The next day, Chris feels like everyone in the school knows that he had his fingers up his ass last night. He keeps blushing and can't meet other guys' eyes—which he knows is fucking ridiculous. It's not like jerking off with fingers in one's ass makes a guy gay; Chris has Googled the shit out of it this morning and it seems to be a perfectly normal thing to do for straight guys—for straight guys like him.   
  
"Are you ignoring me or something?" Audrina says, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.  
  
Chris nearly flinches; he's all jumpy and nervous today. He laughs, putting an arm around her. "What? Of course not, babe. I just thought you were still pissed at me for—"  
  
"For being a jerk to poor Anton?" she says with a pointed look.  
  
Chris grins. "Well. Yeah, I can be a jerk, I admit it—but come on, it was just for laughs. It's not like I was outright bullying him, right? You know I don't do stuff like that."  
  
She shakes her head with a long-suffering smile. "He's not even gay, Chris."  
  
Chris laughs. "You're shitting me, right? Everyone knows that Yelchin is a faggot. He was caught wearing girl's panties!"  
  
"No, he's not, Chris. I don't give a damn what you call those faggots, but Anton isn't gay. He just gets off on wearing woman's underwear—which is weird, okay—but he's totally straight, believe me. I spent summer at Jessica's, and it turned out that Anton was her cousin. He told me that he felt nauseous even at the thought of sucking cock, much less really doing it."  
  
Chris feels his face grow hot. To think that the flaming homo Yelchin isn't really a cocksucker, while Chris has sucked cock not once, but  _twice_ , makes him feel like throwing up.  
  
"Babe, are you okay?"  
  
"I need to go to a bathroom," Chris says and strides away, despite Audrina's protests.

 

 

 

*  * *

  
He thinks about ditching detention but knows that the consequences won't be pretty.  
  
Maybe it will be just a regular detention, Chris tells himself as he stands before Mr. Quinto's office.  _Yeah, right_.   
  
He knocks.   
  
"Enter," the teacher calls out, and Chris comes in.  
  
"Three o'clock sharp," Mr. Quinto says, writing something. "I'm impressed, Chris."  
  
Chris closes the door behind him.   
  
"Have a seat. I have to finish writing this letter first," Mr. Quinto says, not looking up.  
  
Chris walks to the big comfy-looking chair and sits, his whole body tense and shoulders stiff.  
  
But when a few minutes pass and Mr. Quinto still gives no sign that he will require from him something gay again, Chris starts relaxing. He looks around the office, but there's nothing interesting about it; there are no personal items, no framed pictures of the man's significant other or family. Chris doesn't know much about Mr. Quinto; no one does.  
  
He knows that his full name is Zachary John Quinto, and that he is twenty-nine and that he likes striped shirts and funny hats. Chris also knows that half of the girls in their school are pining after him, because he is "oh my god, so hot, with those dark bedroom eyes, and did you see his hands?" Not that Chris listens to that kind of gossip. Personally, he thinks he's a much hotter piece of ass than Quinto—and the other half of the female population seems to agree with him.   
  
Chris looks at Quinto's strong graceful hands, and okay, he can see the appeal, but—  
  
He flushes, realizing that he's thinking about those fingers touching his asshole. Again.  
  
Shit.  
  
And because life hates him, Quinto lifts his head and catches him blushing like a virgin. It's a good thing he can't see Quinto's cock from here, or he would have probably been caught ogling it. Chris scowls. "What?"  
  
Quinto raises his eyebrows slightly. "Nothing, Mr. Pine."  
  
Chris blushes even harder, which only pisses him off. He lifts his chin and says, "I wanted to tell you that I wouldn't do anything anymore, got it? I'm not gay. You can't force me. If you try again, sir, I'm reporting sexual assault to the principal." There, he said it.  
  
Mr. Quinto stares at him with those intelligent, sharp eyes. "Okay," he says finally.  
  
Chris blinks, taken aback. "Really?"  
  
Mr. Quinto looks him into the eyes. "Sure, Chris. I have observed you closely for the last three days and you didn't pick on your classmates even once. Didn't call anyone a faggot or cocksucker. You just needed a lesson, and I'm quite pleased with the results."  
  
Chris stares at him, then laughs. "Do you really think I'll buy that bullshit? I wasn't born yesterday, you know. With all due respect, but you got your rocks off on 'teaching me a lesson,' sir."  
  
Quinto takes his glasses off, and leaning back in his chair, regards him with those unreadable dark eyes. "Of course I enjoyed it, Chris. I'm sure you're well aware of your attractiveness." He smiles self-depreciatingly. "I'm only a red-blooded man."  
  
Chris examines him suspiciously, but his teacher looks genuine enough. He should be relieved—and he is—but a part of him is… No, he's not disappointed at all.  
  
"So…What's my detention, then?"  
  
Mr. Quinto gestures to the huge pile of papers on the desk. "I need those essays sorted by grade. Then you can go."  
  
Chris blinks. "Okay," he says, still having trouble to believe that this detention really won't involve him sucking Mr. Quinto's cock. His mouth waters at the thought. Angry with himself, Chris sets his jaw, and pushing his chair to the desk, gets to work, while Mr. Quinto returns his attention to his paperwork.  
  
They both work in silence, which while isn't strained, isn't companionable, either. There's tension in the air, and for some reason, Chris is hyper-aware of Quinto's every movement.  
  
Sick of the silence, Chris clears his throat. "So…are you gay or something?"  
  
Mr. Quinto keeps writing. "It's a very personal question, don't you think?"  
  
Chris chuckles. "Come on, man. I had your dick in my mouth. It can't get more personal."  
  
Mr. Quinto smiles, his eyes on the letter. "I guess." There's a pause before he continues, "I don't like labels, but if you insist on using them, I'm bisexual leaning more towards men."  
  
"Oh," Chris says, feeling his cheeks heat up. It's the first time someone outright told him about preferring guys. "So do you…"  
  
"Do I what?" Quinto asks when Chris trails off.  
  
Chris looks at the teacher's hands, unable to look him in the face. "Do you do that often? I mean, force your students to blow you?"  
  
The man's pen goes still. "I never  _force_ my students to blow me, Mr. Pine," he says slowly. "That would get me sent to jail."  
  
Chris frowns, but doesn't look up. "But what about me?"  
  
"You… you were another matter entirely. You were an exception."  
  
It pisses Chris off. "Why? Surely I wasn't the first student who did a bit of name-calling in the corridors."  
  
"No, you weren't." Mr. Quinto smiles slightly. "It's true that I'm attracted to you, Chris, but I would have never done it if you didn't want it yourself."  
  
Chris freezes. Then laughs. "Funny, man. Real funny."  
  
Mr. Quinto lets out a sigh. "Don't freak out on me, Pine. I told you, it doesn't make you gay if you love sucking cock. It's just a matter of preference. Do you know that many gay men don't like sucking cock? It doesn't make them straight. Many straight guys don't like going down on women, and it doesn't make them gay. On occasion, I like going down on a woman, but it doesn't change the fact that I love cock more and doesn't make me straight. Stop thinking in labels, Chris. You either like something, or don't. Labels should be reserved only for dirty talk."  
  
Chris is sure his face is as red as a tomato. He remembers Mr. Quinto calling him a cocksucker, a faggot, and a whore while Chris sucked his dick. "So you love sucking cock, too?" A part of him is unable to believe that he really is having this conversation with his teacher. His goddamn  _teacher_.  
  
Quinto shrugs. "I guess, though I don't get off on doing that like you."  
  
His face must be purple by now. Chris licks his lips, hesitating. Why not? It's not like he has anyone else to ask about it, and everyone knows that only idiots believe everything on the Internet. "So…it's not a big deal if I put my fingers in my asshole when I jerk off, right?"  
  
Chris can see Mr. Quinto's body go rigid. Gathering all his courage, he flicks his gaze up to Quinto's face. Quinto's eyes seem darker than usual as he stares at Chris intently. "You put your fingers in your ass? How many?"  
  
Chris licks his lips. "Two."  
  
Quinto's hand squeezes the pen so hard that his knuckles go white. "Did you like it?"  
  
Chris adjusts his hard cock under the desk. "Yeah, I guess — I came without touching my dick. But it's not a big deal, right? A lot of straight guys do it, right?"  
  
Quinto's nostrils flare. "You came without touching your cock?"  
  
"Um, yeah? Is this that unusual?"  
  
The man gives him a crooked, almost pained smile, before laughing slightly. "Pretty unusual, yeah. Did you use lube?"  
  
"Um, no. Just precum."  
  
Mr. Quinto shakes his head. "Use lube next time. It'd feel better and won't hurt as much."  
  
Chris wets his lips. "Uh, I don't have lube. I usually use my spit to jerk off."  
  
Quinto laughs a little. "Jesus, teenagers." He opens the drawer in his desk and retrieves a bottle of lube. "Here."  
  
Chris stares at the bottle in Quinto's hand, then shakes his head frantically. "I can't take it— I won't be needing lube anyway. I'm not gonna do things to my ass again. I'm not—"  
  
Mr. Quinto pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're letting labels get to you again. If you like playing with your ass, it doesn't make you a 'faggot,' Pine. You're right: plenty of straight guys do it—even let their wives fuck them with dildos. It's perfectly normal." He meets Chris's eyes. "It's stupid to let homophobic prejudices stop you from doing something you enjoy. You appear to be especially sensitive down there, so it's extra stupid not to explore it."  
  
Chris flushes, and then laughs harshly. "Shit, I can't believe we're having this conversation. I thought you taught History, not Sex Ed."  
  
Quinto leans back and smiles, his white teeth flashing. "I'm talking to you as a guy to another guy—not as your teacher. You're eighteen, right?"  
  
"Yeah, turned eighteen two weeks ago."  
  
"Then you're an adult enough to talk about sex. You aren't a virgin, are you?"  
  
Chris laughs. "Hell no! Haven't been for years."  
  
Mr. Quinto smiles at him again and Chris feels his cock throb painfully. God, what the fuck?  
  
"I thought so," the teacher says. "If you don't want to explore it by yourself, you should ask your girlfriend next time you have sex."  
  
"What? No way, man," Chris says with a chuckle. He can't imagine even asking Audrina to put her fingers in his asshole, much less letting her actually do it. And the thought of her doing it to him isn't arousing in the least. Against his will, Chris's gaze shifts to Mr. Quinto's long fingers. He licks his lips, then quickly looks up. He flushes, realizing that he's been caught.   
  
The teacher is staring at him intently, his pupils blown and breathing uneven. "I see. Come over here, Pine."  
  
Chris wets his lips and shakes his head, clutching the armrests of his chair.  
  
"Come over here," Quinto repeats, dark eyes roaming all over Chris's body, lingering on the tiny hard nipples showing through his T-shirt. "I'll just introduce you to your ass, Chris. It won't make you gay, don't worry."   
  
As if in a dream, Chris stands up and rounds the desk. His knees are all wobbly, so he props his hip against the desk.  
  
Mr. Quinto rises and now they are face to face, only a few inches between them. His eyes shift down to Chris's lips. He looks like he wants to kiss him. Chris licks his lips and Quinto tears his gaze away back to his eyes.   
  
"Turn around," he says, his voice a bit hoarse.  
  
Chris does, his face hot. "Look, maybe—"   
  
He sucks in a breath as the teacher's hand brushes his cock when he unzips Chris's jeans. God, he can't fucking believe he is doing this—that he's letting his teacher push his jeans and underwear down, leaving him bare-assed.   
  
"Shit, Pine," Quinto says, sounding breathless. Hands take his asscheeks and squeeze. "So fucking beautiful."  
  
Chris is a bit weirded out to hear this but at the same time pleased—and shit, Quinto's touch is making his skin cover with goosebumps.  
  
"Bend over the desk," Quinto rasps out and Chris does, his face going hot as he thinks of how he must look.   
  
When he hears the teacher drop to his knees behind him, Chris looks over his shoulder. "Um, Mr. Quinto, what are you—" He gasps as the teacher swipes his tongue across his asshole. "Shit, stop this—it's fucking disgusting—"  _And gay._    
  
Chris tries to push Quinto's head away from his ass, but Quinto just grips his buttocks hard and forces his tongue in. "Ahh, shit, let me go—I changed my mi—mmm…"   
  
Chris's protests turn into a long moan as Quinto fucks his asshole with his tongue, delving deeper and deeper, again and again, until it's not fucking deep enough. Chris groans and starts pushing back on that tongue, wanting more, needing more, his asshole twitching hungrily around the tongue. "Ah fuck—more, Mr. Quinto."  
  
A hoarse chuckle. "Call me Zach."  
  
Chris whines, pushing his ass higher. "Shit, want more—more."  
  
Another chuckle, and the tongue stops touching his hole completely. "A moment, kid."  
  
Chris pants heavily, rubbing his leaking cock against the desk, his asshole spasming and so fucking  _empty_. Finally, two lubed fingers push into his hole and it immediately clenches around them.  
  
"Shit, I've never seen someone so…" Mr. Quinto—Zach—gasps out, pumping the fingers in and out of him. Chris moans and whimpers as they repeatedly brush slightly against that spot in him—too briefly; he wants it harder.   
  
"Harder," he croaks out, shamelessly pushing back on Zach’s fingers. God, he's so fucking close to coming, he just needs it a bit harder.  
  
Zach chuckles hoarsely and says, "No."  
  
Chris wants to punch him. "Why the fuck not?" he grits out, wiggling his ass around the fingers.  
  
"Because in a moment I'm going to pull my fingers out and replace them with my cock."  
  
Chris's eyes, foggy with arousal, widen. "No way," he croaks out. "I'm not gay."  
  
Zach abruptly pulls the fingers out, and Chris whimpers, his hole clenching convulsively. Holy fucking Christ, he never thought it was possible to feel so empty.   
  
"Do you want some cock, Pine?" Zach says, circling the fingers over his asshole. Chris grunts and tries to impale himself on them, but Zach takes them away, laughing softly. The next moment, Chris feels something slick and blunt touch his asshole. "Come on, Pine, take it. We both know you want it."  
  
Chris shakes his head frantically, but his body has a mind of its own and is already pushing back on the cock. He gasps as the cockhead breaches his sphincter. It doesn't hurt as much as he expected, so he pushes back again, moaning as Zach’s cock slides all the way in.   
  
"Shit, Pine," Zach grunts out, his fingers digging into Chris's buttocks. "You can't be real." He pulls out and thrusts back, making Chris whimper. "So eager…so perfect…you were born to have cock in your every hole—"   
  
He groans and sets a quick rhythm, fucking into Chris without restraint, with no gentleness—and Chris can't believe how much he loves it. Loves having cock in him, loves being bent over and fucked like some faggot. He is groaning and grunting as he pushes back on his teacher's dick, his own cock drooling all over Quinto's papers.   
  
Their grunts and moans echo in the room as they move together, fucking faster and faster.  _Shit, the door isn't even locked_ , Chris thinks, but the thought turns him on even more.   
  
He shoves three fingers into his mouth as Zach starts slamming into him erratically, hitting that sweet spot over and over until Chris is coming with a groan around the fingers.   
  
He collapses onto the desk, panting. Vaguely, Chris feels the teacher fuck into him a few more times before hot come fills his asshole.   
  
"Holy fuck," Zach gasps out, collapsing on top of him.   
  
Chris laughs, come-drunk. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Weird, but he isn't freaking out; he knows he will, but not now.  
  
Zach sighs, nuzzling the back of his neck. "Shit, Pine, you’ve ruined my sex life forever."  
  
Chris smiles in a daze. "'Was that good, huh?"  
  
Zach chuckles and gets off of him. "Something like that."  
  
Chris straightens up, too, with a slight grimace as his ass protests to the movement. Pulling his jeans and briefs up, Chris belatedly realizes that they had sex practically fully clothed. Huh.  
  
He looks at Mr. Quinto— somehow it's hard to think of him as Zach now that he doesn't have his cock in his ass anymore—and finds him frowning deeply. Quinto looks disheveled, his face flushed and hair tousled, but his mouth is grim.  
  
"What's up?" Chris says, zipping up.  
  
Mr. Quinto brushes a hand through his thick hair. "I can't believe I did this."  
  
Chris stares at him incredulously, then chuckles. "What? I thought I was supposed to be the one freaking out here. Why did you suddenly acquire morals?"  
  
A muscle in Quinto's jaw starts flexing. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "It's different. Blowjobs are one thing, and you gave them willingly. Yes, you did have a choice, Chris—you could have always left if you really wanted to, but you didn't. But this—I took advantage of you while you were too turned on to think. And worse, I didn't even use a condom." He laughs humorlessly. "I just didn't think. And the worst thing is, despite everything, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Shit, you have every right to report me to the authorities, Chris."  
  
Chris looks at him, feeling torn. A part of him—the part that is pissed as fuck at Quinto for disrupting his neat life—wants to say that yes, he will report the guy. That it's what he deserves. But the other part wants to ask when they can do it again,  _please, please._  
  
Chris does neither. He shrugs casually. "Don't beat yourself up over it, man. We just had a bit of fun. Means nothing."  
  
He turns around to leave.   
  
His footsteps echo in the silence.  
  
When he is almost at the door, Quinto's voice stops him. "Detention, Pine, for ruining my paperwork. Tomorrow, four o'clock. Don't be late."  
  
There's a question in Zach's voice, a bit of uncertainty and a great deal of want.   
  
His back to the teacher, Chris smirks slowly, feeling like the tables are turned. He feels powerful. Wanted. Like he's the one with the upper hand. And it makes him excited as hell.   
  
Zachary John Quinto won't know what hit him. By the end of the month, he will be eating out of Chris's hand.  
  
His spent cock twitches.  
  
"I won't be, sir."


End file.
